


Feeling Down

by codevassie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Langst?, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Sickfic, bc im not slick when it comes to klance, but it's mostly gen i swear!, if you squint you might find klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codevassie/pseuds/codevassie
Summary: Lance is undeniably sick and it's possibly the worst day for it. He and his friends had been planning this day for months! Now he feels like he's ruined it all...





	Feeling Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gdesertsand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdesertsand/gifts).



> This is a late bday present for Sand! Happy birthday and sorry it's late!

Lance woke up and regretted it.

There were streams of light breaking through the gaps in his curtains that felt like murder on his eyes. Lance realized, sitting up to go draw the curtains in better, that he had a pounding headache that couldn't have solely been from sleeping with sunlight in his face. He reached up and grabbed his head, groaning from the feeling of shards in his skull.

He was congested, his palms were clammy, his cheeks were cold, his hair was glued to his forehead in an attractive sheen of sweat. In other words, Lance felt like shit.

“What a day to be sick,” Lance sniffled miserably. He knew there was no taking off today though. He may not have had work, but he had promised to go to the museum with his friends and they had been planning it for months. There was no way he'd miss out.

He checked the clock and sighed. He could still fit in an hour or two of sleep. It was actually really early for him to be awake, but he was only slightly salty about that fact. It meant he could bury himself under approximately six blankets and sleep in. He'd feel fine after that and some medicine.

It took Lance way too long to fall back to sleep, tossing and turning and unable to decide how many blankets he wanted, if he wanted blankets at all, if he wanted to go find more blankets in the linen closet. One second he was freezing to death and the next he was scorching. It was almost a relief to succumb to his fitful sleep.

Lance didn't wake up again until his phone rang loud and shrill in his ears. Lance jerked awake, but kept his face buried in his pillow. The headache was back, but it was worse than ever. The ringing wasn't helping.

So he picked up the phone and answered.

“Hey,” he greeted sleepy and miserable. He shrank back into his blankets, fearing the chills around his room.

“Lance! Hey, where are you?” Hunk’s voice came through the line and, even through the haze shrouding his mind, Lance understood immediately.

“Shit! What time is it?” He asked, sitting straight up and swaying a little. He put down a hand for support and closed his eyes. Hunk said something, but he didn't quite catch it. “What'd you say?” He slurred and Hunk paused.

“Are you okay?” His friend then asked, sounding a bit worried. “You sound awful.”

Lance easily waved it away with his hand, then with his words once he remembered he was actually on the phone. “Just a cold. It's not that bad.”

“A cold?” Hunk hummed then, and snapped his fingers. “I'll be right over, my friend.”

“Wait. What?!” Lance exclaimed, sending a shiver of protest down his spine. “Don't come over. I'm late enough as it is. Wait, how late am I again?”

“It's a quarter past, but don't worry about it, Lance. I know you and I know you'll push off whatever level of misery you're experiencing to come. To be honest, this is one thing I cannot trust you to handle on your own.”

“But, Huuuunk,” Lance complained, only for Hunk to butt in.

“No buts. If it's just a cough or something, I'll let you come, but not until I can see you. Honestly, Lance, you've got to take care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself!” Lance protested, hoarse voice seriously contrasting with that statement.

“Okay, buddy,” Hunk said, obviously just humoring him. “I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Don't move.”

Lance was whining when he hung up.

He didn't dare move from his bed until Hunk got there, even when his body stubbornly kept him awake and he had to count the lines on the ceiling. One did not mess with the caring instincts of Hunk Garrett.

Lance's whole body felt like it was tingling and it could only be from the cold that still permeated through the blankets. Sweat marked his brow and he knew his hair must have been greasy and gross, but, snuggled up like that, he didn't dare move.

Lance thought about getting dressed. Meeting Hunk out the door and proving he was okay to go. Healthy to walk and enjoy their excursion without dragging them all down with his measly cold. But he was self aware enough to realize he probably wouldn't make it.

It turned out Lance was able to doze a little after all because, once Hunk had arrived, he had to blink away a haze that threatened to pull him to a world of dreams. He grinned up at his friend.

“You are definitely sick,” Hunk said and Lance scowled.

“Meanie. I thought you were here to help.”

“I am. Which is why you are going to stay in that bed until you're better,” Hunk replied, hanging his coat on the back of a chair in the corner. “Have you taken anything?”

Shit. So that's what Lance had been forgetting. He shook his head.

“Hold on. I'll get it,” his friend said and disappeared into the bathroom. Lance didn't wait long until Hunk came back with two pills. “Gotta go get water,” he declared and left the room. He was back in no time at all.

When he held out his hands for Lance to take the items, Lance had to sit up, an excruciating experience involving a headache that sprung into action and limbs almost too weak to hold himself up. He slumped once he'd gotten up and took the pills and water, downing the two.

Once he handed the glass back to his friend, he nodded. “Thank you.” He immediately laid back down, cherishing the warmth that surrounded him at the action.

“No problem,” Hunk replied easily, setting the glass down on Lance's bedside table. “Now, when's the last time you ate?”

Lance immediately scrunched his nose. Food sounded like the last thing he wanted right now. “I'm not hungry.”

“Of course you're not. You're sick. But you have to eat.”

Lance sighed. His stomach churned like the sea. “Please, Hunk? Food later?”

So his friend regarded him carefully, no doubt checking over his entire person for clues as to what to do. Lance wondered how he just knew.

In the end, he nodded. “But you have to eat when I give you soup later. Do you have soup here?”

Lance thought over it and, in all honesty, he shrugged. “No idea.”

“Okay. Well, you get some rest. I'll go get soup. Then we can binge TV or something when you wake up,” Hunk suggested. “Deal?”

But Lance was already nodding off. Still, he answered, probably very slurred and not with 100% conscious thought, “Deal.”

-/-

Once Lance came to, he realized his room was lighter. Must have been midday by now. Checking his phone confirmed that thought. It was also devoid of messages.

He wondered if the others were having fun at the museum. He really needed to apologize to Hunk for making him miss out.

When Lance sat up this time, he didn't rock off balance. He'd take that little success. When he pulled off the covers and swung his legs off the bed, he regretted it a little more because of the cold, but he quickly found a sweatshirt and some of his heaviest socks. When he was about to trudge downstairs, he noticed something.

There were voices in his house. Not just the TV or even Hunk talking to himself. But two, very real voices.

Lance's heart plummeted. He knew those voices.

When he got downstairs, he went into the living room immediately. “Pidge? Keith?”

The two in question, as well as Hunk, all turned to him. Hunk smiled. “Hey, buddy. You're awake!”

“What are you guys doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the museum?” Lance asked, guilt already gnawing at his gut.

Keith shrugged and Pidge spoke up. “We wanted to come see you. Besides, going somewhere we all planned to together would have been a bummer.”

“Oh,” Lance lowered his face, studying the ground. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. We can reschedule, and this is fun too. Watching Hunk criticize people on the Food Network is prime entertainment.”

Keith chuckled in agreement and, since he was closest, Lance ruffled his hair. Keith looked affronted, and sent him a dirty look. At least some people weren’t there out of pity.

“Soup time?” Hunk asked. “I made two kinds because we're expecting company.”

“Company?” Lance asked and folding his arms around him. He was starting to get cold again.

“Yeah. Shiro, Coran, and Allura will be over soon. Unless this is too many people for you. We just thought you'd like the company being holed up here and all,” Hunk shrugged and headed for the kitchen.

“You guys don't have to keep me company,” Lance said, still standing awkwardly in the living room entryway. Pidge rolled their eyes.

“We want to, idiot. Now, get your butt on the couch so we can dote on you or whatever shit.”

That's when Hunk’s head poked out of the kitchen again. “Lance, sit,” he commanded. “Chicken noodle or vegetable beef?”

“Chicken noodle,” Lance answered and smiled at his friend. “Thanks, Hunk.”

Hunk shot back a grin and ducked into the kitchen. That's when Lance's wrist was seized and he was dragged over to the couch. Once he'd been pushed down into a sitting position, he looked to find Keith already moving away. He came back with a large, fluffy blanket - one of Lance's favorites - and wrapped him in it.

“Stay,” Keith commanded, putting up a hand. “Don't move.”

Then, he walked out to the kitchen, probably to help Hunk with the soup.

Lance must have had a dumb look on his face because Pidge immediately burst into evil little snickers. He shot them a dirty look, only making them laugh harder.

So Lance snuggled down into the covers, more or less burying himself and his flaming cheeks (that were totally from the cold) and watching the show on the TV.

Keith came back not too much later with a bowl of soup. He handed it off to Lance and turned to Pidge. “You have working legs,” he remarked.

“So does he,” Pidge pointed to Lance, a challenging smirk on their face. Keith rolled his eyes and walked back to the kitchen. He came back with more chicken noodle for Pidge.

“Why, thank you,” Pidge said, still smirking. Keith left again, him and Hunk coming back with bowls of their own and sitting down. They all watched the Food Network in silence for a while, even Hunk, as they enjoyed lunch.

Lance felt pretty content sitting there with his friends, enjoying the afternoon, but it wasn’t long until the uncomfortable reality snuck up on him again. He finished his soup and set it on the side table, curling his knees up to his chin and frowning at a random wall.

That was when the doorbell rang, alerting them to the others’ arrival. Pidge actually stood up this time to get it. Meanwhile, Keith was collecting bowls and Hunk was leaning forward, pressing his hand against Lance’s forehead.

“Feeling okay?” he asked and Lance’s attention was snatched from the wall. Oops. He must have zoned out.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, a smile on his face. “Feeling way better with the medicine and soup. As great a chef as ever, my man!”

Hunk frowned and Lance should have known he wouldn’t be able to hide his foul mood from his best friend. At that moment, though, he was saved by the arrival of Allura, Coran, and Shiro. Coran held up a couple of boxes that he seemed much too excited about.

“I brought games!” he announced and Pidge walked in behind him.

“I will crush you all at Monopoly.”

“I told him it ruins friendships,” Shiro shrugged and made his way to an armchair. “How are you feeling?”

Lance wanted to scrunch his nose at the question. He’d heard that so many times that day and, the more it was said, the more aware Lance was at how he pretty much ruined the whole day.

“Alright,” he said, fighting the negative thoughts and nodding toward his friend. He let his attention move to Allura, who had brought cookies. Now, this was something to get excited about.

“It’s why we were so late. I always make Snickerdoodles when someone needs to feel better. They can’t be as good as Hunk’s, but I hope you will accept them,” Allura said. She didn’t seem at all self conscious about the Hunk comment. Who’s food could be as good as the man’s? But Lance knew her Snickerdoodles were the bomb anyway.

“Yes! Thanks, Allura! Cookies are my crack,” Lance held out his hands, excitedly waiting for the arrival of said cookies. Allura chuckled and rolled her eyes, handing them over.

Then, everyone was around the coffee table, some on chairs and couches and some more content to criss cross applesauce on the floor. Lance, himself, was on a couch, mostly because his friends had refused to let the sick man on the floor. Still, it was comfortable wrapped up in his blanket and eating cookies to his heart’s content. At least, until Hunk confiscated them, telling him he was bound to throw up, sick or not.

The others got a taste of the cookies too and everyone commended a slightly blushing Allura on the job well done. Hunk even asked for her recipe.

But it wasn’t all sugar and cookies. The first game they decided to play was Uno, after all.

“Haha! Draw Four, number five!” Coran exclaimed, slamming his card down in glee. Pidge only looked mildly irritated before they looked down at their own cards and an evil smirk crossed their face.

“Oh, Keith,” Pidge sang and Keith groaned.

“Shit-”

“Draw Eight, bitch!” Pidge announced, slamming down another Draw Four to the pile. Keith flipped them off on his way to the drawing pile and Shiro laughed next to him. Keith gave him the evil eye.

“I’m coming after you next,” he warned, only making Shiro’s grin wider.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time. So why did Lance still feel like he’d let them all down?

“Are you feeling okay?” Lance heard for practically the hundredth time that day. He breathed once to cool himself, then turned to Allura.

“Perfectly well,” he said, a little too perky. Allura gave him a look, but said nothing on it. They both turned back to the game.

On Lance’s next turn, he laid down a reverse and the entire table groaned. Usually, Lance would laugh at his friends’ misfortune, it was only a game after all, but today, his sickly mind pulled him down. He bit his lip and refused to look anyone in the eye as the game continued.

I ruined the day. Now I’ve ruined this game.

It was just a game, his brain told him, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to pass out and, when he woke up, learn that everyone had gone to the museum after all. Or maybe that he hadn’t been sick and this was all one huge nightmare.

It was a nice nightmare. His friends were there. They cared. They were having a fun time. But Lance’s brain couldn’t keep up because it kept repeating over and over again…

Ruined it. Ruined it. Ruined it.

Lance stood up and excused himself to the bathroom. Everyone decided to put their game on pause and give it a rest. Hunk and Allura went to find drinks. Keith and Pidge debated something Lance didn’t hear before he ducked out of the room. Shiro and Coran talked much more amicably than Keith and Pidge, though Lance knew their teasing was all in fun.

Lance went to the bathroom and sunk down to the cool tile floor. It felt nice on his neck and cheek. He could breathe better in here where he had no one to concern himself with fooling that he was okay. Still, the lack of others to force himself to hold it together made it so Lance didn’t particularly feel all that well anymore. His fever was getting to his head and his clammy hands. He swallowed and figured he should get some water - he was parched - but he didn’t want to get up.

There was a knock on the door and Lance bolted up, afraid he had forgotten to lock the door and someone would see him in there, almost passed out on the floor.

“Lance, you in there?” Shiro’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I just came to check if you were alright.”

Lance’s voice caught in his throat. What should he say? Could he say anything? At this point, it felt almost impossible with his vocal cords in all sorts of knots. He couldn’t swallow, his throat was so swollen, much less speak.

But it was all in Lance’s head, wasn’t it? His throat wasn’t stuck… just he was.

“I’m alright,” he called. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro must have thought to himself for a second because there was a pause. Then some shuffling. “Okay, but let one of us know if you need anything, alright?”

“Got it,” he choked out and froze. Shiro was still outside the door. Had he heard that?

Then, the telltale sounds of feet walking away let Lance breathe again.

“Whew…”

So Lance stood up, breathed, and pieced himself together enough that no one could see through the cracks. This was something he was good at. This was something he’d been good at for a very long time. He splashed water on his face then walked out, joining the others back at the table.

The game went on until Allura, in the end, won. By that time, Keith had had one card left, Pidge, about a million cards, something they were very irritated at, and the rest of them fell somewhere in between. They voted on playing Sorry next, but in teams. Lance and Allura teamed up for Blue, Keith and Shiro for Red, Hunk and Coran for Yellow, and Pidge, because they always got what they wanted for being the youngest, was the only player on Green.

While the others were setting up, Hunk stood up and pulled Lance away, telling him it was high time for more medication. Lance groaned, but let himself be dragged away because, yeah, he was feeling kind of shitty again. And not just the innate shittiness that had plagued him throughout the day.

Hunk pulled him upstairs because that was the only place Lance kept his medicine, and sat him down at the edge of his bed. When he came back with a pill and glass of water, Lance had deja vu from that morning.

He smiled and thanked Hunk, but, like he’d mentioned, his best friend knew him like no one else. Hunk sat down on the bed as well and looked over at Lance as he took the pill and placed the water glass back down on the bedside table.

“I know I’ve been asking you this all day, and I can tell it’s starting to irritate you, but are you okay?” Hunk said and, even though he’d said what he’d said, Lance still felt a gross feeling swirl in his gut.

“Yeah, man. Fighting sickness off and all that. The pill should help,” Lance shrugged but Hunk shook his head.

“I meant other than your cold,” he clarified and Lance stilled. He looked up and, at the completely earnest look in Hunk’s eyes, was forced to look back down. He sighed.  
“Seriously, man. I’m alright.”

“Lance. Don’t try this shit with me. I know you,” Hunk said. Lance bit his lip but did not speak up. “It’s about the museum trip, isn’t it?”

Lance winced. Leave it to Hunk to nail the problem right on the head.

“I- I just… feel bad, you know. That everyone had to miss out because of me,” Lance mumbled to his knees and he felt Hunk shift on his bed.

“Dude,” he said, but Lance continued to examine his sweatpants with a critical eye. “Dude. Look at me.”

So Lance looked up at his friend’s command. Hunk had his serious look on.

“No one cares about that, okay?” Hunk said, trying to drill the message into Lance’s head. Hunk knew to get through to him, you had to repeat something over and over or it wouldn’t penetrate his thick head.

Lance didn’t believe things that easily, especially when it came to contradicting the nasty little voices in his head. “Like Pidge said, we wouldn’t have wanted to go without you. We’ve been planning it for too long to just ditch you like that. It wouldn’t have been the same.”

“But we’ve been planning it for so long, like you said,” Lance said miserably. “And this stupid cold ruined it all. I ruined it all.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you decided to come down with this cold? You didn’t want to go to the museum so you were like ‘Magic cold fairy, please grant me a day of miserable sniffling and shivers’? That’s what happened?”

“Well,” Lance had to admit, even though he knew exactly where his friend was going with this, “No…”

“Then it is not your fault,” Hunk insisted. “Pssh, even if you didn’t have a cold, but still didn’t want to go to the museum, we wouldn’t hold it against you. Sometimes, you just have bad days. We all do.”

“But…” Lance said, unable to think of anything else. He was sure there were plenty of arguments he could make. The nasty little anxieties in his head always had more. But, he was feeling sleepy all of a sudden and the weight of the day lifted a little from his shoulders. He leaned forward and placed his head on Hunk’s shoulder, shutting his eyes. “I’m just sorry…”

“We know,” Hunk said softly, putting his arms around his friend. Hunk hugs were always the best. “We’re sorry too, but there’s always alternatives. We’ve still had a fun day without the museum, right?”  
Lance nodded his head into Hunk’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”

Hunk chuckled and Lance’s heart lifted a bit. He was too sleepy to figure out what Hunk might have found so funny, but Lance was relieved to hear that he could make his friend laugh.

“Then let’s get you tucked in. I’ll tell the others that you’ll be down later,” Hunk said, settling his friend back to snuggle into his blankets and pillows. Lance didn’t protest other than a short mumble.

“Sorry I can’ play Sorry…”

Then, again, there was that laugh from Hunk.

“It’s okay, Lance. Maybe later.” Then Hunk stood up and started to leave. Lance heard the click of his bedroom door and then he was asleep.

-/-

When Lance woke up, it was dark outside, which meant everyone had probably already gone home. He sighed. He hadn’t even gotten to thank them for coming over to keep him company. Or properly apologized for making the day a bust.

Lance slipped out of bed, shivered, and pulled on a sweatshirt and his blue lion slippers. Coran had gotten them all these slippers a couple years ago and during sleepovers it was required for them all to wear them. Lance was pretty sure he was the only one who wore them out of their get togethers though.

When Lance shuffled downstairs, it was dark. He hoped Hunk had gone home. He didn’t want his friend sleeping on the couch just to wait up for him.

What he found, though, Lance had not been expecting.

Gathered around the glowing TV in the living room were all of his friends, decked out in their PJs and lion slippers. They were watching a movie, but, once Lance had walked in, they popped up with genuine smiles on their faces.

“Lance!”

“Thought you’d be comatose forever.”

“Come watch the movie with us!”

And, he didn’t know why, didn’t know how, but that icky feeling in his gut seemed to dissipate and Lance smiled a real smile for the first time that day.

So Lance stepped his way through the bodies laying on his living room floor to put himself right in the middle of it all and sat back. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined the day… it looked as though they all had had fun…

And Lance realized he had had fun too. Not as much fun as he could have if his anxieties had just left him alone, but, now, finally feeling a bit normal again, Lance let himself enjoy it too.


End file.
